


Like Lon Chaney

by Sassaphrass



Series: Werewolf Bucky- AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Gore, Bucky Barnes Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love makes you stupid, Murder, Penny Dreadful inspired, Pretentious Shakespeare quotes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sad Ending, Sam Wilson is perfect, accidental cannibalism, steve rogers isn't perfect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's knows two things without a doubt to be true: he's a monster- a wolf-man, and Steve is good. Too good for a monster like him, but, he'll stay as long as Steve let's him. </p><p>Of course, secrets have a way of coming out in the worst possible ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's knows two things without a doubt to be true: he's a monster- a wolf-man, and Steve is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: I have completely changed the prologue to this fic! I hope you all like it.

Bucky twists and stretches, cold in the early morning mists. His skin feels lit it fits in the way that only the change can bring.

 

 

He runs his tongue along his teeth and gums. There's no taste of blood, which is something of a relief. It's really uncomfortable finding mangled rabbit corpses when you can still taste their blood on your tongue.

 

Bucky does not belong in Brooklyn. Things like him are meant for deep woods and wild places.

 

But, nevertheless, here he is. In Brooklyn. Which sucks pretty badly.

 

He feels he probably should feel slightly more tormented over the whole wolf-man thing. Steve would, if it was him who was losing all control and in danger of killing someone once a month.

 

But, Bucky has ever been a pragmatist.

 

So, he doesn't give it too much thought. A few times a month he runs around on four legs and is only a passenger in his own body. Occasionally this leads to death and dismemberment for other people. Big whoop.

 

Bucky's only real concern is that one of these days something will happen to Steve while he's...otherwise occupied and...well, that would be very ugly.

 

 

Because Steve was unique among all of humans that Bucky had encountered. He was _kind._ He was _unselfish._ He was _good._

 

Honestly, Bucky isn't sure whether what he feels for Steve is really love or not. He doesn't really have a frame of reference for softer emotions.

 

Does a dog love it's master or is it just the slavish devotion of a creature that hasn't the capacity for anything else?

 

Because there was no doubt in any one's mind (except maybe Steve's) that Bucky was devoted to Steve.

Hell, Bucky had sat through Mr. Smith Goes to Washington 3 times. If that wasn't devotion he didn't know what was. Not to mention the time that he'd spent a great deal of money (though insufficient to buy an actual ticket) to bribe the stagehand to let them sneak in to watch Shakespeare.

 

Bucky remembers one line in particular. Some sad sack tall girl in love with a fellow who wouldn't give her the time of day:

 

Beat me, strike me, insult me just so long as you let me follow you. Let me be your spaniel.

 

Well, Bucky is Steve's spaniel all right. Not that Steve has ever done anything like that. It's why Bucky started following him in the first place.

 

But, other people had, when he was small and weak and feral. They thought it was funny. The little half-beastie that they'd found. They were bad enough.

 

But then came the scientists. They'd have bought him and cut him up into pieces. No. Bucky wasn't having that.

 

That was the first time he'd killed. And it had been him. The wolf hadn't had anything to do with it.

 

He'd gotten away. Into the winding streets. He'd been alone and afraid and hungry.

 

He'd survived though. He'd done what he'd needed to survive. Beaten dogs get vicious sometimes.

 

Then he had met Steve. It was like a very tiny, mildly suicidal sun had wandered into Bucky's life.

 

And he'd been kind and gentle and he hadn't been scared away. He'd brought Bucky food even though Bucky could've counted each of the kid's ribs through his threadbare shirt.

 

Kindness was something Bucky had never really seen before. Bucky had started following Steve around. Not coming too close. Just, watching. Making sure he was alright. He'd stepped in during a fight and Steve had smiled at him and clapped him on the back and that had been it.

 

Bucky would've put up with anything if it meant he could keep following Steve.

 

At the moment that means finding the clothes he stashed behind the dumpster last night (he nearly always ends up behind this particular butcher shop) and staggering back home.

 

Steve would be waiting. Bucky spent the walk home making up a girl he had spent the night with. Last month had been a blonde German, perhaps this month woud be a black haired Puerto Rican.

 

Yes. A Puerto Rican girl with a protective older brother. That would explain the bruises. It would also explain his desire to go out again tomorrow and the next night.

 

He ducked his head as walked home, climbing the rickety stairs up to the apartment two at a time.

 

He kicks the brick off the spare key and unlocks the door.

 

There's a familiar cough and then he hears Steve calling from the next room. “Bucky?!”

 

“Yeah, ya punk it's me.” He hurries to the kitchen sink and quickly wipes the worst of the grime off of his face and hands.

 

“SHE BETTER HAVE BEEN REAL PRETTY!!” Steve hollers before breaking down coughing again.

 

It's alright though. Bucky is intimately familiar with every way Steve has of breathing. This is a dry, persistent but shallow cough. Not the painful wet one that haunts him nearly every winter and has him praying to whatever god that makes things like him not to take Steve just yet.

 

He throws his coat onto the back of the couch and walks into Steve's room, flopping down gracelessly onto the bed next to him.

 

“Hmmm, that she was.”

 

Steve smiles and grimaces. “God's nightgown Buck, you smell like a dumpster.”

 

Bucky humms non-commitally. “Well, he did throw me in one.”

 

Steve looks at him incredulously and then bursts out laughing. “I never know whether or not your lying you jerk.”

 

Bucky shrugs and grins up at his friend “I like to think that's part of my charm. Besides think how sad and lonely yer life would be without my tall tales to keep you warm at night.” he waggles his eyebrows to punctuate his point.

 

Steve sighs and pretends to be put upon. “Alright then. Tell me about her.”

 

Bucky grins and bounces the mattress to sit up. “Really?!”

 

“Yes. Fine, whatever. Tell me about this month's girl.”

 

“Well, she's a Puerto Rican gal from Harlem. Blackest eyes I ever seen...” Bucky begins.

 


	2. A Monster After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes face to face with what it really means to be a werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: gore and a bit of unintentional cannibalism in this chapter.

The first time Bucky realizes that he actually is the monster everyone (except Steve) had always claimed him to be, is when he wakes up eyeball to eyeball with a dead man.

 

Only it's not a dead man-It's a severed head, who's face is still caught in an almost comical look of shock.

 

The rest of the man is in pieces around the room. He gingerly sits up, the drying blood on his skin making him wince as he peels off the floor.

 

The man has been ripped to shreds. There's part of the ribcage under the table and a long rope of intestine wrapped around Bucky's ankle.

 

Panicking, Bucky kicks it off. He tries to find somewhere, anywhere to look where he won't be confronted with what he'd done, but he can't. There's even a spray of blood on the ceiling.

 

He doesn't understand how this happened. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Sure, he's woken up plenty of times with a slightly gnawed on rabbit nearby but this is different this is-

 

His train of thought comes to a screeching halt as he realizes exactly why it had happened: His mouth tastes like blood.

 

Sarah Rogers had died just over a month ago. They'd been having real trouble making ends meet this month.

 

His mouth tastes like blood.

 

He'd been hungry when he turned.

 

The last time that had happened he'd been a tiny little thing on the run from a whole host of demons. Too little and too afraid to do much damage.

 

This time he was a man. A tall, strong man who'd done a whole hell of a lot of damage.

 

He looks around at the carnage with fresh eyes and sees what he'd already known: not all the body was there.

 

He scrambles up and to the bathroom, not bothering to worry about leaving behind bloody footprints. He leans over the toilet for a long moment, gasping. He doesn't throw up. Part of him feels he should make himself do it if it's not going to happen on it's own. It would be the decent thing to do, some small sane part of him (that sounds suspiciously like Steve) is saying.

 

But.   
  


Bucky's been so hungry lately and for the first time since Sarah died he feels comfortably, contentedly full.

 

That's the thought that gets him gagging, though he doesn't end up bringing anything back up.

 

Bucky's not sure whether to be relieved or horrified.

 

He drinks from the faucets and tries to rinse the taste of blood from his mouth. It doesn't work. There's too much iron in the water and the taste of it just makes him gag again.

 

Terrified that someone will come looking for the man outside at any time Bucky hurriedly tries to rinse the worst of the blood off.

 

His hair is crusty with gore. His fingers stick together just a bit as the blood dries. Bucky grabs the soap and tries to scrub himself down, not bothering that the water is splashing all over the room.

 

He rinses his hair and stares at himself in the mirror.

 

He looks pale and sick but you wouldn't realize that the thing beneath his skin isn't even human- not really. It's good enough for now.

 

There's no towels so he just tracks water through the apartment as he searches for something to wear. Part of him is stupidly grateful he'd killed a man and not a woman. He can't get back to Steve's place if he hasn't any clothes.

 

The closet holds two sets of sailor's duds, a work shirt that's nearly worn through, and an old jacket.

 

Bucky settles for a pair of the crisp blue uniform pants, the work shirt and the jacket.

 

He finds socks tucked into a drawer near the bed.

 

He's just about ready to leave when he realizes he has no shoes. He pauses, torn.

 

He could make it home without them. Probably. But it's later now than when he usually makes the trek. Someone would see him. There's no way it wouldn't get back to Steve.

 

He searches the bedroom. No sign of any.

 

He takes a deep breath and steps back into the slaughter house.

 

He finds the boots. One kicked under the kitchen table, the other by the door. One still has the foot in it.

 

Something human in Bucky has turned off, because he's absolutely unbothered by having to pry the stiffening limb out.

 

He laces them up and then stops to consider the foot. Should he just put it on the floor?

 

Which leads him to consider the entire...corpse, such as was left of it.

 

It wasn't right to leave the poor fellow like that. All his guts strewn about the room, not to mention someone was sure to be concerned about whatever had ripped the man apart.

 

He ought to get rid of the body.

 

But there was no hiding what had happened here. There were claw marks on the floor. There was blood on everything.

 

Bucky had no idea how you cleaned blood up. He should probably look into that.

 

This might happen again. He distantly realized. It's not like their money prospects were going to magically improve by next month. He's going to be going in to a lot of full moons with an empty stomach.

 

That's the thought that is ringing in his head as he stumbles home. Halfway there he realizes he'll need to go pick his clothes up from where he'd left them behind the butchers shop where he usually wakes up.

 

Sure enough, the clothing is still neatly piled up behind the dumpster.

 

He changes there. Steve would notice if he came home with new clothes.

 

He leaves the stolen ones behind but can't decide about the boots.

 

On the one hand God and Steve would no doubt condemn him for wearing the boots of a man he'd murdered. On the other, they're nice boots, even if one is a little bloodstained. Navy issue and better than anything Bucky can afford.

 

He laces them back up and tucks his own cheap shoes with the cracked cardboard soles under his arm.

 

He doesn't know how he's going to face Steve after this.

 

His mouth still tastes like blood. And worst of all, there's still 2 more nights before the moon begins to wane and he can consider his skin his own for another month.

 

 

Steve's at work when he gets home. There's a note on the table. It just says:

 

“ _I hope you treated this girl with respect and proper gentlemanly behaviour. Gone to work. Cake in icebox. DON'T EAT IT!!! - Steve”_

 

Bucky chuckles and heads to work. If he was lucky he'd manage to avoid Steve until the moon waned. 

 

The next night he doesn't black out during the change. The change is less painful than normal and he finds himself fully in control of his body and prowls as a wolf through the streets.

 

It's liberating to be so powerful. It's terrifying to wonder what he might do with it.

 

The third night of the moon the change is painful again but less so than usual. He remembers what happens during the change though he seems more a passenger in his own body rather than in control of it.

 

When he's with Steve he tries to pretend that there's not one more murder on his soul. But, Steve knows something is up. Bucky goes to mass willingly for one, but doesn't take communion and refuses to go to confessional.

 

He knows he's not quite himself, that he laughs too loud and is too close to hysterics half the time, but Steve, bless his stuttering weak heart, doesn't ask what happened. He must know something did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey this has been burning a hole in my hard-drive for a couple of months now and I am hoping that by posting it the damn thing will stop bothering me. I am not happy with how it's turning out but I think the concept might save me? Maybe? *sigh*
> 
> Title is a reference to the Actor Lon Chaney who starred in the first ever Werewolf movie: the Wolfman which was released in 1941.


	3. Never Cage a Wild Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets through a full moon without murder. Steve makes a very questionable decision.

There's a war coming.

 

Bucky shakes his head at the eager kids lining up at the enlistment office. He's too smart for that shit. He turns to make a joke to Steve- only to find that Steve is not at his side.

 

He smells for him. And sure enough the stupid little punk is waiting in line at the enlistment stand.

 

Oh shit on toast. Bucky suddenly knows how the next couple of years are going to go. Great, bad enough that there's a war on, Steve has to want to _join_ it.

 

It doesn't even occur to him that _he_ might have to go. Mad impossible wild things don't get drafted into wars. They don't even exist in official records.

 

But Steve keeps trying to go. He keeps getting in worse fights and Bucky starts getting scared for his friend.

 

That month he changes in the old cemetery. They lock the gates at night and it's not like there's anyone around to get hurt.

 

That month the change is as bad as it's every been.

 

Agony that seems like it will never end as his bones break and his spine stretches. He's not sure how long it takes, it feels like years but is probably only hours. Who knows, it might even be just minutes.

 

After the pain there's nothing until he's waking up the next morning sprawled out naked in the dirt as the first light of dawn peaks over the horizon.

 

He looks around him. No sign of some poor critter meeting an untimely end.

 

Bucky twists and stretches, cold in the early morning mists. His skin fits in the way that only the change can bring.

 

He runs his tongue along his teeth and gums. There's no taste of blood, a huge relief.

 

He glances around and then darts from tombstone to tombstone until he finds his clothing neatly folded and tucked behind one.

 

He hastily dresses.

 

He worries every time he needs to leave Steve alone during a change. The kid just couldn't walk away from a fight and, to top that off was a terrible judge of character (exhibit A: his best friend woke up last month eye to eye with a man he'd killed).

 

But, since the war started it's been worse. It's been so much worse. Bucky can't hardly leave Steve alone for five minutes without the young man picking a fight or running off to the recruiting office. Bucky doesn't understand why he wants to fight so badly, it seems like their entire lives is just one long haul of trying to keep walking when everybody's trying to knock you down.

 

Bucky doesn't understand why he'd go looking for a beating or for a terrible painful death when the world has always done it's best to kill them both.

But their lives aren't really built for self-reflection. There's few enough moments between work and sleep and trying not to starve to death to contemplate the self-destructive tendencies of his best friend (even if the little moron does keep trying to enlist).

 

It all comes to a head the night of the Stark Expo. Bucky is riding the first waves of a change. It's the full moon and he's hoping to get himself well fucked and well fed before the moon makes him deadly.

 

Of course, Steve can't just enjoy the pretty girl and eat his pop-corn. No, kid has to go make a 6th attempt at getting into the goddamn army.

 

Bucky would like to have it out with him about his insane fixation with dying for the freaking motherland or whatever the hell it was but this close to the change that would probably end in blood, screaming and carnage. The usual.

 

So, he takes the girls for one dance and when it's clear neither of them will be putting out tonight (a damn shame) he heads out to his place in the cemetery to get it over with.

 

 

The next morning he wakes up with blood in his mouth in the back of the cemetary, slips into his clothes, hastily kicks the mangled rabbit into the bushes and is over the fence and on his way home before the sun makes it over the buildings.

 

Between that and the contentment that usually follows a change (with one notable exception that Bucky tries his hardest not to think about) he's in an excellent mood when he gets home.

 

He kicks the brick off the spare key and unlocks the door expecting to be met with the familiar wheezing of his friend. Instead there is nothing...silence.

 

It's every nightmare Bucky has ever had coming true, he tears into Steve's room and nearly cries with relief when he finds it empty.

 

However the relief of not finding Steve dead is almost immediately replaced by the panic of not finding him at home.

 

What if he was hurt or bleeding? What if got sick suddenly and couldn't make it home? What if he'd gotten into a fight? Or, worst of all, what if he'd actually through some strange miracle managed to join the army?

 

Bucky storms back out into the main room of their apartment and his eye falls on sheet of paper left on the table. The same place Steve usually leaves a note if he has to leave early and Bucky's home late.

 

Of course even Steve never leaves this early, but Bucky snatches it up and reads. It takes him a minute to process since Steve had obviously been too excited to think straight and his writing is even worse than usual.

 

“ _Dear Bucky,_

 

_If it was of both of those girls, don't worry I pray for your soul every Sunday at Mass, if it wasn't you need all the help you can get so I'll be praying anyway. God knows you're a lost cause but it's good to make sure he keeps an eye on you anyways.  
_

_The most amazing this has happened!!! I met a doctor at the recruitment office, he says that he can make me into a real proper soldier! It's an experiment and there willl be risks but-”_

 

Bucky crumbles the paper into a ball without reading the rest. Scientist. Experiment. He knows all he need to about _that_ . 

 

He even understands why they would go after Steve. The kid was honest and good and desperate to join the army. He'd agree to anything if it would give him a chance at shooting Nazis.

 

But Bucky knows better. Scientists are never to be trusted _ever_. Because if you're lucky you'll end up killing rats in a fucking pit and if your unlucky you'll end up strapped to a table trying to stab that fucker with his own scalpel.

 

Bucky pauses to smile at the memory of the surprised look on the man's face when Bucky had got him in the throat. The smile becomes something else altogether as he considers what he'll do to the scientists that took Steve.

 

Because there's still two more nights of the full moon left and for the first time Bucky's gonna make sure the wolf gets fed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this story has defeated me. 
> 
> I'm going with the Being Human model of Werewolf transformations ie: they are hugely terribly painful. Unlike Being Human Bucky does fully become a wolf. 
> 
> Steve, oh, Steve just can't stay out of trouble.


	4. Unleash the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes looking for the people who took Steve.

 

He criss-crosses Brooklyn a dozen times or more that day, scents even sharper than normal with the moon coming again tonight.

 

He doesn't find Steve that day.

 

He wakes up naked and covered with blood, sprawled on the floor of their apartment. The papers tell of corpses torn apart under the bridge.

 

Bucky feels sharper than he's ever felt before. He continues the hunt.

 

Still nothing.

 

He has to find Steve before the moon is up tonight otherwise they'll be no way to make the people responsible pay.

 

He practically wears out his shoes walking through the borrough. Maybe he should head up across the bridge to Manhattan or over to Queens. Surely Stevie wouldn't have left NYC?

 

That night is only the second in his memory where he stays in control when he changes. He's always been a wolf but it feels odd to _be_ a wolf. His memory usually ends before he becomes something that is monstrous in a way that god intended rather than inhuman in a way the devil did.

 

He pads through the streets catching faint whiffs of Steve's scent in places they had been in the last week. He licks at the spray of dried blood in the back alley where he'd found him using a garbage can lid as a shield.

 

He wanders through the streets. In this form he's big enough that no one's going to risk a confrontation. A young man throws some rocks to try and get him to move along faster. He turns and snarls and snaps at his heels to chase him down the streets.

 

He finds himself back at the apartment. He remembers a story his dad used to tell about Indiana and the way the dogs slept under porches. He lies under the steps that lead up to their walk-up.

 

 

Maybe Steve will be home tomorrow morning and he'll feel stupid for having worried, but he can still remember the way the scientist had grinned at him when he was so scared. He hears himself whimpering and doesn't bother trying to stop. He hates being alone. He misses Steve.

 

He tromps up the stairs the next morning buck-naked and doesn't even bother covering the family jewels when Old Lady McDaniel gasps.

 

He collapses on Steve's bed and tries not to cry. It smells like Steve in here, which, granted, is not always particularly pleasant, but right now the scent of vaporub, antiseptic and that special Steve-ish scent is the only thing that's keeping him from kneeling on the floor and howling his grief to the rising sun like the wolf he is.

 

He needs to go to work, he realizes distantly. The first night of the moon had been Friday, it was Monday now. He needed to get up and get going if he wanted to eat this week.

 

So, he does.   
  


He sleepwalks through the next month, eyes and nose peeled for any whiff of Steve, but there's nothing and both those senses dull the further he gets from the full moon.

 

It's the evening after the first night of the next full moon when he _finally_ smells it: Steve- faint and mostly hidden by another scent. Probably someone in the street has been near him recently- not just near but close enough to touch.

 

 He follows the scent to an old pawnshop and is thinking he's maybe lost the trail when he hears it. Steve is screaming and the moon is almost up and Bucky grins around his lengthening canines. He's gonna rip whoever hurt Steve apart and he won't feel sorry the next day as he picks bits of them out of his teeth.

 

If Bucky cared about the collateral damage he might cause bursting in half turned he would leave and come back tomorrow. He doesn't care.

 

Steve's heart is big and soft and somehow has room enough for the whole world. Bucky's life has made his heart small and shriveled and tough as old leather. There's only ever been room in his heart for one person and that person is Steve. Bucky absolutely does not care about what'll happen to the people that took him away when the wolf gets loose.

 

He makes it past the old lady with the gun, leaves her bleeding on the floor but, (probably) not dead.

 

Steve has stopped screaming and Bucky's bones are starting to break as the change starts.

 

If they killed Steve...he thinks hazily through the pain.... I'll rip their throats out and eat their hearts.

 

The smell of Steve is stronger the further down the hallway he goes. This would be very comforting if it didn't take all his mental powers to keep walking and not collapse screaming onto the ground as his bones continue to break and something deeply unpleasant starts happening to his organs.

 

He finally wrenches the door open and his eyes meet Steve's across a crowded room. Only Steve doesn't look like Steve anymore. He's taller, broader and his face his twisted in disgust. tomorrow.

 

Bucky storms into lab, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter. He's heading for the scientist. The one who is obviously in charge and who has so _helpfully_ dressed in a white labcoat.

 

If Bucky wasn't half-crazy with pain and anger he'd be very pleased about that. The labcoat makes it that much easier to kill him without remorse.

 

The last thing he sees before the wolf completely takes over is the surprised look on the doctors face as Bucky's claws rips a hole in the man's chest.

 

Bucky feels a faint sense of satisfaction before surrendering completely to the wolf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up naked on a cool cold floor.

 

It takes him a long long moment to remember where he is and what he's done.

 

The place is deserted, most of the equipment obviously destroyed by the wolf, the chairs overturned and the doors closed.

 

Bucky rests his head against the cool tile floor. What had he been thinking? The look of disgust on Steve's new healthy face dances before his eyes. He has no idea what he looked like, but, caught as he was between the man and the beast, he must have looked more like some demon from hell than like a guardian angel coming to the rescue.

 

He gingerly picks himself up off the floor. He's shivering. He shuffles towards the door and tries the handle. Nothing. 

 

Bucky rubs his arms and dances on the stop as he peers through the little glass window. There's no one there. He tries tapping on the glass any way.

 

“Hey! C'mon! Ya gonna let me die down here?” He calls. He's not sure if it's terror or some bizarre desire to seem more human that thickens his Brooklyn accent. He's not sure he cares.

 

He's not sure how long he stands there banging on the glass and praying someone will let him out. It would be easy to lock the monster up for a month and only come back when you're sure it's dead. But Steve wouldn't do that? Right? Not to some poor creature that couldn't help be what it was. And not to a person either, no matter how much they might deserve it.

 

Steve would come back for him.

 

He's got to believe that. He's certain of it, in fact.

 

Steve will come back for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this is still going. Ugh, this fic is such a difficult little beastie. It does not want to cooperate!!
> 
> So, Bucky murdered Erskine.   
> Bet you didn't see that coming did you? (maybe you did? I dunno unless you tell me) 
> 
> Hope people are enjoying this fic.


	5. A Tiger in a Cage Can Never See the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the fallout of trying to save Steve. 
> 
> WARNING: Steve behaves badly here and there is medical experimentation and torture mentioned.

He's shocked when Steve actually does show up because he's almost unrecognisable.

 

 Tall and broad and without any of the delicate beauty Bucky remembers. He's too strong for beauty now. Handsome is the only word for his new looks.  

  
   
 Bucky puts his palm to the glass. “Please Steve, ya got to let me out.” he begs.

 

 Steve looks heartbroken but determined. “You killed Dr. Erskine.”

 

 “I could hear you screaming.” Bucky tries desperately to explain. “I had to do something.”

 

 Steve nods. “What are you? Not human I assume.” There's something cold and distasteful in his voice. Like he's talking about a slug or a coakroach.

 

 That feels like a blow to the chest. He'd never told Steve, but he'd always been sure, deep down, that if he had told him than Steve would accept him.

 

 But, there's something like fear and worse- disgust, in Steve's gaze.

 

 Bucky shrugs helplessly. “I dunno Steve. I ain't got no parents- you know that. I've always been this way. Wolfman, I guess? Like Lon Chaney?” He tries to laugh but if comes out more like a sob.

 

 “Please Steve, ya got to let me out. I don't wanna die down here.”

 

 Steve's gaze is ice cold. “Funny, I don't think Dr. Erskine wanted to either.”

 

 “He was hurting you!!”

 

 “He made me better than I was!”

 

 “You were already perfect! He just made you different.”

  
   
 Steve glares at him. “I'll ask about what's going to happen to you. But, no promises.”

 

 And just like that he turns and walks away. Bucky stares in shock before banging on the door and trying to call him back. He doesn't turn, doesn't even falter in his now-perfect stride.

 

 “PLEASE STEVE!!! NO!!! Don't YOU LEAVE ME DOWN HERE!!!!  PLEASE!!!   STEVE!!!!” Bucky screams and beats against the door until his fists are bloody and leave dark red smears on the pale green metal.

 

 That night, like every other transformation after a kill, he transforms without pain and finds himself in control of his body as a wolf. It's only the third time this has happened and it's the first time it's been a relief.

 

 He'd shivered all day as he'd sat naked in the ruined lab. At least now he has a coat of fur.

 

 He spends the night howling at the moon he cannot see and whining like a beaten dog whenever he thinks of Steve.

 

 The next morning he tries to resist the change. If Steve hates him he'd rather stay a wolf.

 

 To his absolute surprise it works. The sun comes up and though he aches all over in a way that doesn't usually follow a transformation he is still most definitely four-footed and furry.

 

 Evenutally Scitentists comes for him. They put him on a leash. Of all the indignities. What's worse is that Bucky goes without a fight. What's he got if Steve doesn't want him anymore?

 

 He passes Steve in the hallway, being led like a dog. He whines but doesn't look up. His tail is between his legs and if Steve wants to step in he can. But he won't beg. He can't really in this form.

 

 That evening his control of his body in the wolf lessens. It's the last night of the full moon though and he manages to hold on to the wolf.

 

 He has a respite of a month before he can be a man again. He thinks he'd rather not be a man ever again.

 

He realizes that staying a wolf means he's mostly unconscious of what is happening to him. Like a regular full moon he loses all memory of days at a time.

 

Considering what he can remember it's probably a blessing that he forgets.

 

They put him to sleep and suddenly time becomes very strange. He hurts and he bleeds and sometimes he is a man and sometimes he is a wolf only it never makes sense anymore. He swears he only had a day as a man between the last two transformations but that can't be right? It's always a month.

 

 They hurt him and tear at his skin and rip him apart just to watch him knit back together. They treat him like a dog and, ashamed as he is to admit it, he responds like one. They sic him on their enemies and he comes back with flesh between his teeth and blood on his tongue.

 

 He's not sure when he decides to leave. Or how much time has passed. Or even what prompts him to make the decision.  He knows only that one day, he finds himself escaping. Perhaps the wolf made the choice for him.

 He _is_ a wolf when he leaves.

 

 It's surprisingly easy. Labs are designed to keep in weak humans or dumb animals. A sentient wolf ten times stronger than your average human has no trouble getting out.

 

 Only, he's clearly been asleep for too long. The world has changed.

 

 He sits in the park (still a wolf) and watches as beautiful young people perform a play. It's oddly familiar.

 

 There's a tall woman in love with a man who hates her. It's very sad. The fairy queen casts a spell on the man to make him love her and the man does. He feels sorry for her in the end.

 

 He wanders. The streets are deeper now. Winter is comings and the nights start getting cold.

 

 The moon comes again and he becomes a man once more. He doesn't move. He just sits there naked and shaking in the cold. He thinks he might be crying, but it's been so long since he wore his own skin that he's not sure what crying feels like.

 

 Is he crying or is he just cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a downer. I'm not sure why Steve had to be an ass about things I only know that that was the plan from the very start. I think it's all the murder. Steve just gets upset about things like that. Don't worry things start looking up later. 
> 
> PS; I'm planning to completely change the first chapter of this fic and give it a different prologue. So, keep a weather eye out for that if you're interested.


	6. Use me as your Spaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky escapes and finds the world a very different place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the handwavy time-gap

 

_Is he crying or is he just cold?_

 

Of course, Bucky should realise that this isn't the lab, and, like Steve always used to tell him, there _are_ good people in the world.

 

People who, for example, see a naked scarred man shivering and sitting on the sidewalk holding his knees to his chest and trying not to sob so hard that he breaks a rib and help him.

 

He's so lost that it takes him a minute to realize someone is speaking to him. His eyes slowly focus on a dark-skinned man with kind eyes kneeling a few feet away from him with both hands open palms facing Bucky.

 

“Hey there.” The man says, softly and gently. Of course, that's how you speak to wounded animals, softly and out of reach in case they bite.

 

“What happened to you?”

 

Sam Wilson has seen a lot of fucked up shit in his day. He was in the war in para-rescue. He's seen his best-friend blown out of the air. He's seen women and child torn to bits in bombs dropped by his country.

 

But there's something particularly sad about this naked man with his sad sad eyes who shivers and yet doesn't even rub his arms or curl up to stay warm. He just sits there. His arms and torso covered in scars- some clean and straight- others ragged. The ones where he sat quietly and the ones where he fought back. 

 

The man blinks at Sam.

 

Sam tries again. “What's your name?”

 

The man blinks again. “That's not how it works.”

 

Sam pauses. “What?”

 

“You give me a name. I don't name myself. That would be stupid.”

 

“What did other people call you?”

 

“The Asset. The Weapon. Soldier. Dog....Bucky?...” The last one is a question.

 

Sam gulps, but the man continues. “mostly they didn't call me anything. I was just there.”

 

“What about your family? Do you have someone I can call?”

 

Bucky shakes his head.

 

“C'mon let's get you up and have someone look you over.”

 

Despite his fierce look the man acquieces easily enough.

 

Sam gives him his sweatshirt and takes him to a shelter. It becomes clear after a minute that though the scars are horrific they are all old enough to have healed long ago. Bucky is given a set of clothing and a hot meal. Sam sits with him the whole time.

 

“You okay man? You need anything?” Sam asks.

 

Bucky glances up from his stew in confusion and shakes his head slowly.

 

“Well, if there's something I can get you, give me a call.”

 

Sam holds out his hand for Bucky to shake but the man is clearly unwilling to put his bread or spoon down long enough to shake hands. Sam just grins and starts to walk away.

 

“Wait!” Bucky suddenly calls after him. Sam frowns and turns. “They were doing a play in the park...something about fairy queens and love potions and something with a donkey? Do you know what the play was?”

 

Sam shrugs. “I know they usually do Shakespeare, but...” he pulls out his phone. “I could find out for you?”

 

Bucky nods and Sam taps at his phone for a few second. “A Midsummer Night's Dream. That's what the play is.”

 

Bucky bites his lip and looks uncertain. “Could you get me a copy?”

 

Sam frowns but nods. “Sure, I'll drop it off here in a couple of days.”

 

 

Bucky likes the shelter. He goes out during the day and comes back most nights. He sees the posters advertising an exhibit celebrating the return of Captain America. Even with half his face covered and a new jawline he still recognizes Steve.

 

No one gives him much trouble. The food is good.

 

Then one day a member of the staff hands him a book that has a post-it stuck to the front with the simple phrase: Enjoy!

 

 

It takes him a while to find the right page, the right speech, the right words. Bucky has been good at many things in his life: violence, charm, dancing, tracking down Steve, violence,... but never words.

 

....

 

Steve still keeps an apartment in Brooklyn, despite the fact that his work at SHEILD has him working mostly out of DC. He likes to visit on occasion.

 

Steve unlocks the door The place mostly smells of dust and old gym socks from the first few months before the Chitauri invasion when all he wanted to do was hit something.

 

He steps inside and his foot immediately comes down on something crinkling.

 

Frowning, Steve stoops to pick it up. It's a page torn from a book, with a passage underlined.

 

“Use me but as your spaniel- spurn me, strike me/ Neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave, unworthy as I am, to follow you.” The word 'Please?' is scrawled at the bottom of the page and is followed by a familiar signature.

 

Steve sinks to the floor and stares in shock. That can't be right. That can't be right at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is all I have written and it is to my mind as good a place as any to end this story, but I may have some niggling doubts about that, so there may or may not be an epilogue to follow this up.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony notices that Captain America has made a new friend. 
> 
> Tony being Tony he disapproves.

Tony did not peg Steve for a dog person.

 

In retrospect it's painfully obvious. Of course Steve is the type of guy to have a dog. It goes with the whole “Truth, Justice and Apple Pie” thing he's got going.

 

Though if Tony had pegged Steve as a dog person this particular dog is definitely not what he would have expected.

 

The dog in question is nearly black and is some sort of wolfy-type dog breed. Maybe an Alaskan Husky, or an Inuit dog, or some sort of Russian breed that kills bears. This dog looks like it might have killed a bear or two in it's time. His coat is ragged and uneven because the poor mutt is so scarred and bashed up.

 

Apparently he just started following Steve around one day and Steve, in true Steve-ish fashion decided to keep him. He didn't, however, give the damn dog a name it seems. He just lets the dog follow two steps behind him around everywhere he goes. 

 

Tony is kind of weirded out by the whole thing to be honest, but he supposes bringing a dog to everything that isn't literally a battle for your life is probably a better way of dealing with trauma than say locking yourself in a basement and building mechanical suits of armour. So, Tony isn't really in a place where he can throw stones.

 

The dog seems pretty friendly. Well, tolerant would probably be a better word. He doesn't seem to mind at all if any member of the team snuggles up with him or pets him or whatever.

 

But, he acts almost scared of Steve, slinking along behind him (always!), but never getting too close or cuddling up to him.  

 

 

Steve, Tony has noticed, never pets his dog, but does tend to talk to him as though he's a person.

 

 _Tony_ pets the dog. Tony _likes_ the dog quite a bit actually and had actually drawn up a preliminary plan for dog-napping until Natasha caught him and using a look threatened him with all sorts of tortures if he ever enacted it.

 

But.

 

Still.

 

Steve is so weird about that dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this isn't the happy ending some of you guys wanted but it's honestly the idea that kind of first prompted me to write this story: 
> 
> Steve having this gigantic wolf following him around that's really his friend, and Steve kind of trying not to acknowledge that too much while also accepting this unasked for and unending loyalty.
> 
> Edit: This story now has a sequel! It is called : "A Taylor Lautner Sort-of Situation" and continues the story of Bucky as he lives with Steve in his wolf form and together they try and navigate the Avengers and the Twenty-first century.


End file.
